


Contact

by chortlingdingo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Could Be Canon, M/M, VictUuri, fluffy fluff, takes place sometimes between episode 2 and 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9273815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chortlingdingo/pseuds/chortlingdingo
Summary: Viktor could be confusing, and was a demanding coach, but his coming here was the best thing that had ever happened to Yuuri too.originally posted on tumblr





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is my first YOI fic, written after episode 4, and it's surprisingly canon? Takes place sometime during the Hasetsu honeymoon.
> 
> Also, I prefer Viktor with a "k" instead of a "c". Sorry, not sorry.

Yuuri had felt off-balance for weeks, ever since Viktor Nikiforov had spectacularly forced his way into Yuuri’s life.

Everything had changed, and Yuuri spent most of the time when he wasn’t training, skating, or choreographing his free skate program, vacillating between bliss and panic.

Viktor Nikiforov was here, as his coach, and had shown an interest in him that Yuuri had never sensed from anyone other than Minako and Yuuko. Viktor’s intensely focused attention was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. Yuuri knew how fortunate he was to have someone of Viktor’s skill and experience coaching him one-on-one, but he couldn’t help the embarrassed intimidation he felt whenever he felt Viktor’s sharp eyes on him.

Yuuri had gone to sleep with Viktor watching over him since he was ten years old. And even though the numerous posters had been pulled down and hidden in Yuuko’s house—Yuuri didn’t think anywhere was safe from Viktor on the onsen property—and his phone background picture had been changed to his beloved Vicchan, Yuuri was painfully conscious that the man he had been crushing on for over ten years was here and he was terrified that somehow Viktor would see it.

Viktor was not quite what Yuuri had expected, and he ultimately decided to abandon the image he had built up from years of watching Viktor perform and give interviews and reading every magazine and news column he could get his hands on, and just get to know the man himself.

But Viktor was confusing. One moment he was hyper, smiling hugely and moving with exaggerated happiness. The next, his eyes turned sharp and assessing, his face and body still with focus.

Yuuri hadn’t learned very much about Viktor in the weeks since he arrived. Despite seeming like an open book, Viktor was surprisingly close-lipped about anything that mattered. Yuuri knew Viktor’s favorite color, his favorite food, that he liked to wear sweatpants on his off-days, but he still had no idea what Viktor’s family was like, or even if they were still alive.

The enigma, Yuuri could live with. After all, it had only been a few weeks, and Yuuri hoped that as they got to know each other better, Viktor would open up in the same way that he gently encouraged Yuuri.

What drove Yuuri mad was the _touching_.

He had never been overly tactile, even as a child, and Viktor was constantly touching him. Slinging an arm over his shoulder, grabbing his wrist or hand, brushing his fingers across his face or carding them through his hair. Yuuri’s heart pounded every time Viktor leaned against his shoulder, and the press of warm skin never failed to chase all thoughts from his mind but the sensation of that contact.

He didn’t know what Viktor meant by it. Yuuri had noticed that while Viktor was friendly and free with smiles to everyone else, the physical contact was reserved for him.

Yuuri was certain that Viktor was there to help him—their conversation on the beach had assured him of that—but he had no idea what Viktor was getting out of this arrangement.

Viktor wasn’t much older than Yuuri, but taking a year off at his age in their sport was practically career suicide.

The question worried at him until he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Viktor, why did you really come here?” he asked one evening after practice. “What are you getting out of this?”

Viktor smiled and tilted his head to the side in a such a way to make his silvery blond hair shift alluringly over his eye. “I told you, I was inspired by your video.”

Yuuri couldn’t help feeling disappointed and he jerked at the laces of his boot. How many times had he seen Viktor give that same smile, that same calculated tilt of his head in interviews when he was asked personal questions?

“Why are you upset?” Viktor asked softly, still looking at Yuuri through a curtain of pale hair.

“You’re always asking me to open up to you,” Yuuri said, keeping his eyes on his boots. “I just… I had hoped you would do the same.”

Viktor’s sneakers entered his field of vision and Yuuri looked up at him.

The smile was gone, but Viktor’s eyes were impossibly soft as he reached out and cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands.

Yuuri’s thoughts skittered away at the sensation and his cheeks flushed.

“You really do inspire me, Yuuri,” Viktor said. “I was in a rut, you know, after the Grand Prix. It seemed like nothing I did could surprise anyone anymore. I didn’t know why I was even skating. Every time I stepped out onto the ice, I felt nothing.”

Viktor stroked his thumb along Yuuri’s cheekbone and smiled. It was a fragile thing, but somehow more real than any of the other smiles Yuuri had seen before.

“And then I saw you skating my routine. Where my movements and expressions were calculated, yours were full of passion and honest joy. I could tell just how much you loved being on the ice. Coming here was the best decision that I’ve ever made,” Viktor admitted. “You remind me why I started skating.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips across Yuuri’s forehead. “Let’s surprise them all. Together, hm?”

Yuuri stared wide-eyed at Viktor, feeling touched and grateful even with the press of Viktor’s soft lips against his skin replaying over and over in his mind.

“You’ll stay with me?” Yuuri asked, vaguely embarrassed of the vulnerable crack in his voice and what it gave away.

Viktor smiled that fragile smile again. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

The tension in Yuuri’s back and shoulders left in a rush, and he slumped forward to rest his face against Viktor’s belly. Viktor laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Yuuri said, his voice muffled against Viktor’s sweater. “Together, then.”

Wrapped in Viktor’s arms and breathing in his comforting scent, Yuuri felt warm and safe and, above all, loved.

Viktor could be confusing, and was a demanding coach, but his coming here was the best thing that had ever happened to Yuuri too.

**Author's Note:**

> Probably if I had written this post-series, Viktor may have mentioned the banquet, and then this may have gotten to be much longer than it is. 
> 
> ViktUuri saved 2016, and you'll never convince me otherwise.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr (chortling-dingo).


End file.
